Rasen Nightmares
by livingdeadgirl
Summary: Sequel to 'Nightmare Ring,' an unholy union has been made on shaky ground, betrayal lies on the horizon and secrets are beginning to unravel...
1. Prologue::Chapter One

Title: Rasen Nightmares

Author: Kora

E-mail: KrazyKoraaol.com or WinterViolet24aol.com

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The following a character belong to Wes Craven, Gore Verbinski and all the other people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment - as well as some OCs of my own, heaven help us all!

Author's Notes: Sequel to 'Nightmare Ring', I was so pleased with the success of the first one and all of your wonderful feedback. Hopefully this second installment does not disappoint, sorry it took so long to come - I am sure many are saying : FINALLY, the Rock has come back to…wait, no, no - just FINALLY!   
As with the first, this post includes the Prologue as well as Chapter One so it's a little longer than most chapters. Warnings listed below:

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE

WARNING: FRIGHTENING IMAGES

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Prologue

There was nothing but an endless void of darkness.

Then a pop. A buzz. A hum.

The TV clicked on, slowly glowing to life. Static hissed audibly, black and white meshing together over and over. Then it broke; a woman in her mid twenties with fashionably cut black hair and a red sports jacket sat behind a polished desk, papers in front of her. Her voice rang out crisp and clear, growing louder and more intense with each word:

__

Authorities are still baffled by the rising number of bizarre deaths in the New York City region as numerous cases have been reported of victims found in their homes, cars, taxis, on the subway and even airplanes - each case more grisly than the next.

While the NYPD is tight-lipped about the situation, it is known that each case is random and has no connection to the other based on the normal motives of race, age, sex, and/or gender - the sheer force, brutality, and violence alone seem to link them together.

In other news…

The woman stopped, holding her left hand up, while her right hand pressed to a device in her ear.

__

Hold on one moment…I've just received breaking news of an incident - we're going to cut live to Doug Samplioni, Doug?

The screen cut to a dapper man in a nice suit, microphone held tightly - behind him is utter bedlam. Blue and red lights flash all around as mass amounts of people - some officials and others not - stand around a white house that appears torn open, fire and smoke still billowing out of its center.

__

Thanks Joan, as you can see behind me, chaos erupted here at this simple suburban home in downtown New York City. The home was apparently that of a Mr. and Mrs. Charles Denton. A respectable family with three young children. At this moment we are not sure of their condition or if there were any survivors. As you can also see we have police, firemen, and ambulances at the sight of the disturbance.

Not much has been released to the press save that firemen believe a possible kerosene tank may have been responsible for the explosion that rocked the core of this establishment. Neighbors on hand have reported that before the explosion there was a loud amount of volume coming from inside the home - some saying they even heard screaming.

We hope to bring your more information as it - wait a moment…something's happening…

Doug backed up as did the mass of people, revealing two police officers helping a man out of the house. Someone off camera could faintly be heard remarking, "That's Charlie!"

Charles Denton's eyes were glazed, his whole face covered in soot, T-shirt and jeans splattered with blood. Everyone began to crowd around him, asking numerous questions. The two police officers tried to push people off as they escorted him away but one question got through, one caught his attention, "What happened?"

He raised his glazed, and now visibly, bloodshot eyes, words leaving him in a croak, "Water…fire…seven days…"

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George Parkerdingle shot up in bed gasping, sweat pouring down his face. He let out a shaky breath and then released a tight laugh. _Nightmare, it was just a nightmare_…

He fell back in bed and sighed, running a hand through his thick mop of brown hair, rolling around a bit to work out the tension. Slowly his heartbeat decelerated, falling back to its normal rhythm, sweat drying cold to his flesh, leaving him clammy.

Probably left over jitters from that god-awful student art film he'd happened to pick up a few days ago. Normally he wasn't the type to pick VHS over DVD but for some strange reason the tape called to him…he'd found it in a local Goodwill store while on one of his many rammage buys and thought 'why not'?

Only five minuets into the freaky feature he had stopped it. He didn't think much about the phone call afterwards…

He shook his head, it had been silly. Instead he'd sent the tape down to his ex-wife, Julie. She was a member of Columbia's Graduate Film Division faculty, she loved pieces like that. Probably would force a bunch of her kids to watch it, analyze and explain…

Yeah, he'd love to read _those_ papers. How could you even begin to explain that? He couldn't even explain what he'd seen. All he knew was it was giving him nightmares. He laughed to himself and shook his head, rolling over in bed once more. He couldn't seem to get comfortable now.

All he kept thinking about was water…and fire…

Suddenly there was a soft snapping sound. George frowned, at first thinking it was merely his apartment making one of those 'settling' noises that all places are known to make from time to time when a soft glow filled the room. He sat up slowly, sheets falling around him.

His TV, which sat a few feet across from his bed, had sprung to life. The entire screen falling black and white snow. He frowned, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his belly. He looked around, confused. Surely the remote was in bed with him. He'd been tossing and turning enough, he'd probably just clicked the stupid thing on.

But as he searched the sheets and covers, looked under his pillows, he saw no sign of the remote. He clicked on his bedside lamp and looked more feverishly. Then his eyes caught sight of it. It was half way across the room, right next to his TV. His thoughts were scattered as he looked at it, if the remote was there, then how…

He shook his head, determined to put an end to such foolishness. He rose to his feet, socks meeting the hardwood floor. He walked over and took hold of the remote, easily clicking off the set. He looked at the tube's black glossy surface and felt something flutter over him, a terrible chill cooling his bare arms and legs.

A shudder rippled through him but then disappeared. _What was that? Must have been a draft_, he rationalized. The heat was on in his apartment as high as it would go, that's why he'd gone to bed wearing only a white tank top and boxer shorts for Christ's sake. He crawled back into bed, remote in hand. He placed it next to his lamp and then clicked the light off, rearranging himself in the tangle of sheets and blankets.

He closed his eyes only to have a glowing light dance across his lids. He opened his eyes and sat up again. The television was on once more. Snow dancing just as before, static a soft hiss filling the room. He took hold of the remote and clicked the TV off again. It clicked back on. He turned it off. On. Off. On.

George let out a panicked gasp and threw the remote across the room, watching as the powered television's snowy pattern seemed to grow more frantic then fall away, revealing a twisted forest and in the center of it a dilapidated brick well. A squealing soundtrack replaced the noise of static in his ears, repeating over and over in horrible metallic clicks, sharp fingernails on a chalkboard…

A tiny hand appeared on the lip of the well followed by a mat of long, sopping wet hair.

"No, no, no, no...I turned you off! You're off!" George screeched in horror as his hands fisted in the sheets. He was frozen, unable to move, eyes fixated to the television as the dark hair was followed by a tiny body wearing nothing but a white tattered dress. She stood on her feet, walking raggedly, arms flat at her sides.

George reached for his lamp, trying to turn it on but for some reason each click of the knob produced nothing - no light filled the room save the TV's bluish white glow. The girl on screen continued her track until suddenly she faded into snowy static again. The television clicking off.

The room was plunged into darkness once more but he continued to fiddle with the lamp, trying to turn it on. Needing light - real light. Warm, glowing yellow…

The knob finally worked, lightbulb bursting to life and George let out a breath of relief as light filled the room, revealing the girl standing at the end of his bed. Water rolled off of her in droplets, falling to the floor. The skin on her arms was pasty white, long sheet of black hair a shroud over her entire head, her face cut off from view. The silky wet strands parted and a gray eye met George's own. He screamed, face on fire.

Then it stopped.

He blinked, scream dying in his throat. He waited a few moments, heart beating rapidly, breath off center. He looked around his room. The light was on. No one stood before his bed. No one was there. His room was empty. Fine. The TV was off.

A crazed, dry and thin little laugh left George, followed by a ramble of words, "Dream…sweet Jesus…it was just another dream…"

He lay back down, running a hand over his face, eyes closed as he let out a few more giggles of hysteria. He lay on his back, one hand on the lamp's knob about to click the lights off. He drew his hand away, opened his eyes and just as his hand clicked the lamp off he let out a scream at what he saw on the ceiling right above him - a man with a burnt face in a stripped sweater, one hand wearing a crude glove with razor knife fingers.

------------------------------

Chapter 1

The sound of static filled the air as a frenzy of black and white danced about. It fell away and a squealing, whining, repetitive soundtrack played as a shining white ring appeared. It seemed to almost pulsate, and then it disappeared to be replaced by a rushing, dark torrent of blood.

Then it was gone, replaced by blazing fire.

Thick, red fluid rolled slowly across a desk. It appeared to be blood but then was revealed to be nothing more than a burning red candle. But the shadow behind the candle was abnormally high and it was melting too quickly.

A woman brushed her hair in a mirror, but suddenly stopped, looked straight ahead, she was replaced by the figure of a little girl. Her long hair covered her face and she seemed to float backward and out of view, into grainy blackness.

Then there was darkness but three jump roping girls could be seen far off in the distance, their faces invisible but it was easy to tell all three had curly blonde hair and wore the same white bushy dress.

A bald woman, her eyes and mouth closed rotated in a circle. When she was face forward her eyes and mouth opened simultaneously, showing that her insides were completely hollowed out. Dark, black smoke billowed out of both openings and then a fire exploded inside her, curls of flame rising from the top of her scalp. Then a horrible buzzing noise sounded as thousands of different insects - moths, grasshoppers, crickets, bees - flew out of her mouth.

Mad men, hundreds of them, all bunched together. Fingers ravenous, eyes glazed and crazy as they muttered and mumbled. Only one of them was understandable, singing over and over again, "Son of a hundred maniacs, son of a hundred maniacs…"

A head shaking appeared; moving so rapidly that no face could be seen.

A bladed finger sank deep into flesh, blood pooled around its entry.

Chinese symbols, written on torn, water stained paper. More water dropped on to it and the ink ran, showing it was not mere ink, but blood.

Red and green stripes.

Wild horse, frothing at the mouth, eyes bloodshot and wild, hoofs kicking about madly. His madness died as he let out a pitiful whinny, powerful sleek body twisting left to right before he collapsed. Dead.

Twitching light bluish green eye surrounded by burn scared flesh.

A man walked out of black shadows, his outline clearly showing a hat and glove with long knives for fingers on one hand.

Several white, bloated dead bodies floated up and out of dark, murky waters.

The man is drawing nearer again; movements sneaky but ragged as he comes into view. He wore an old beat-up brown fedora and his face was horribly burned. He had light blue eyes and was wearing a red and green sweater, his one hand encased in a glove with razor fingers. He wore the most evil smile on his face, showing rotted teeth as he tossed his head back and laughed.

A well surrounded by trees. The sound of static filled the air as a frenzy of black and white danced about.

Darkness and then a light as Julie Pakerdingle Smith gave her twenty-four students a warm smile. A few looked bored, others looked startled and a few were giggling among themselves. Julie shook her head and left the light switch to approach her desk, facing the front of the class, "Now, what did we think of this film?"

No one seemed eager to raise their hand. Julie couldn't help but smirk slightly; proud to finally be in possession of a film that stumped her kids. More often than not she showed a film like 'Citizen Kane' or 'Vertigo' and the kids were able to break down its meaning and all the symbolism there in. Even newer films like 'American Beauty' and 'Amile' were easily broken down.

She had been surprised when her ex-husband George had sent her the tape. He had never shown any interest in her work before but this time she was really glad he had. If only she knew who made this film - its title, its director. She viewed it as a real piece of art. There were so many facets to it.

Finally one student lifted an uneasy hand, she pointed to it, "Yes, Elijah."

The boy squirmed, fiddling with his pencil on his desk, slouched deep in his seat as he answered, "Um…it's a student art film. Right? Because it seemed very low key and not - not high tech at all. And…um...a lot of it was…an expression of pain."

"Interesting. Why do you say that?" Julie leaned back against her own desk, arms crossed, light glinting off her glasses as she looked thoughtfully in his direction. Elijah was one of her best students but he rarely spoke. This day really was turning out to be quite a treat.

Elijah squirmed some more, dark head tossing from side to side but eventually he spoke again, voice whisper soft, "The film was full of - of painful things. Like the fire for example, and the - the blade sinking into that flesh. And then the horse dropped dead and-"

Several students giggled and Elijah's face went red. Julie snapped her attention to them, "Class! This is college, not high school, must I remind you again. I know most of you are freshmen but I expected you to try and at least act like young adults. After all, that's half of what this class is about, hmm? Acting? So how about we earn those Oscars."

A few more chuckles but everyone settled. Elijah had almost sunk down to the floor but Julie flashed him a dazzlingly smile, "Please, Mr. Kent, continue."

His hand scratched at the back of his head as he lifted himself up a bit more, "Uh…well that was really about it."

"Okay, well it was very good. Yes, I agree, I too think the film showed a lot of pain. Obviously its director was struggling, you know, showing real pains in his or her work."

Another hand shot up, "Yes, Ms. Cooper."

"You said 'his or her', you don't know who made this film?"

"No, actually, nor its title bu-"

"Well then how are we supposed to review this? We have - like - no way to relate it back to the director's previous work for handholds or even credit them!"

"Lissa, I am very well aware of that but I think it's important that we critique all types of films. Now this is the first piece I have ever come across with such…depth, such emotion. There is pain here, as Mr. Kent noted. There is anguish and horror and just an amazing scope to this work by an anonymous. It's shame it even is untitled. Yes, Ms. Matthews?"

An extremely tall, svelte blonde sat up, "Ms. Smith, couldn't we just name the film ourselves?"

Julie pressed a finger to her chin in thought, "Well now, Susan, that's interesting…currently this work is unclaimed…I don't see the harm in our labeling it as a class. Any ideas?"

"I got one," Carter Willis remarked dryly.

"And what is that, Mr.Willis?"

"P.O.S."

"POS?"

"Yeah, it's an abbreviation for 'Piece of Shi-"

"Carter!" Julie gasped, outraged, several students giggled again but this was cut short as Susan remarked, "I'm surprised you even know what 'abbreviation' means, Carter."

A smirk merely took the boy's handsome face; "I know a lot of things, Suzy. How about later I show you?"

"No thanks." She remarked crisply, tossing one long sheet of her ice blonde hair over her shoulder, "I'm taken."

"I'm free." Lissa added, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Now, now class this is not 'The Dating Game'. Let's get back to the topic on hand and in the future, Carter, please watch your mouth or you will find yourself evicted from this classroom. You dig?"

Carter merely raised his hands in apology and Julie sighed, relaxing, "Now, does anyone have anything else to say about this film? Opinions, thoughts, criticism…a title?"

Alanis Smart raised a hand and Julie pointed at her, "Personally I didn't enjoy the film. I found it to be creepy."

"Creepy?"

"Yeah, I mean there were only four sounds in the movie - the endless rising and falling squealing soundtrack, the men singing that song, that one man laughing, and the horse. Not to mention the bald woman with the flaming head and bugs. I mean that was just…" Alanis stuck her tongue out and shuddered.

Elaine Rivers jumped in, "I agree with her, I mean there were lots of scenes in the film that were just for scary show. Like the floating bodies and that shaking thing. A head in a bag or something and then there were scenes that just made no sense whatsoever and led to nothing. Like the director led you to think one thing was blood but then it turned out to be candle wax and what was with the mirror scene? I personally didn't think it was well put together. Where was the story?"

Elijah sat up again, blue eyes narrowed, "You just didn't get it."

Elaine scoffed, "Excuse me?!"

"The film wasn't supposed to have a plot or characters or anything like that. It was an art piece. An expression of pain."

"Yeah, and you'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you spaz?" Carter tossed in and a lot of people started laughing again.

Julie slammed a hand on the desk and everyone shot their attention to her, "Class! What did I say about your behavior? College! Not high school! Thank you, and Mr. Willis, I believe you were warned! Now, I enjoy a healthy debate amongst my students about the subject of a film but I refuse to have you all fall into childish name calling!"

The collective group moved about in their seats, all looking sheepish, a red headed man raised a hand and Julie sighed, acknowledging him with a weary tone, "Richard."

Richard Newman was far older than all the other students and spoke with something of a wheeze, "I - I thought the film was well put together. Except for some editing problems and the - the static."

"Good point. Anyone else?"

Once more the students seemed silent. Julie knew the class was close to ending and a lot of the students looked restless and bored. A few looked thoughtful and a small few actually looked…scared? She noticed one girl in particular looked edgy and she pointed to her, "Ms. Takamai?"

The girl practically squeaked at hearing her name, "Y-yes?"

"Michelle, what did you think of the movie?"

"It - it scared me."

Once more students scoffed, especially Carter, "Aw come on, it was just a movie! A stupid, dumb movie!"

"But…but…didn't any of you feel - feel," Michelle swallowed and looked down at her desk, "Oh-oh never mind."

"Michelle, it's okay. I'm sure a lot of people felt the way you did but aren't brave enough to face up to that," Julie rubbed in, eyes on Carter who merely shrugged and laughed, his face saying he thought she was full of it, she continued regardless, "The film had many disturbing images."

"Yeah, but tastefully so."

This voice came from Giselle Hall. She was one of Julie's other star pupils, "The images were stark, frightening - but like Elijah said, they expressed the director's pain but more than pain, it expressed the film makers anger. The horse, the bald woman, the head in the bag, bodies floating in the water…that was all about death. Maybe deaths the director caused in answer to their pain."

"Freaky." Lissa muttered under her breath.

"Hmm, possible." Julie looked at the clock again and sighed, "All right, class is reaching its end but before I let you go I'm assigning an essay," the normal amount of groans rose from the class as she went on, "That is due next time we met. I want you to compare and contrast this film to one of the other pieces we have seen this semester. Double-spaced, font sized twelve. When you come back I may have a project in mind, so be prepared. Have a good evening."

With that the air filled with the normal sounds of class ending. Chairs scrapping against the floor and bags being shuffled. Elijah looked in Giselle's direction. The girl's dark chestnut curls bounced about her shoulders as she collected her things. Her smoky eyes rose and locked with his. Elijah swallowed, heart pounding in his ears as she gave him a casual smile.

She pushed her backpack over her shoulder and left, leaving him to stare after her. Susan came up to him then, her height causing her to tower over him, she patted a hefty hand on his back, "Hey there, kid."

"Don't call me that!" Elijah muttered.

She playfully ruffled his hair and he shoved her away, she stuck out her lower lip, looking offended, "Aw, what's your problem?"

He looked off in the direction he'd last seen Giselle. She was gone and no where to be found, but still…

"I don't want…you know."

"Ohhh, her again, huh?" Susan teased, "So why don't you just ask her out all ready?"

"She and I are from two completely different worlds. I mean she's…outgoing and popular and…and…"

"Elijah, like Ms. Smith loves to say, this is college, not high school. There aren't any 'cliques'. You're not the geek and she's not the prom queen. Just ask her."

"No cliques, huh? Then what do you call that?" Elijah pointed in the direction of Carter, who was surrounded by other burly boys in the class, obviously his buddies, as well as cooing girls in the form of Lissa, Elaine, and Alanis.

"What? Carter's clan? Oh those are just kids who haven't grown up yet. Sad really."

"Well considering he's on the football team, all his friends are on the football team and most of those girls are either cheerleaders or girl lacrosse players, well…what was it you said about there not being cliques here?"

"Okay, okay I get your point but Giselle isn't like that. I've talked to her before and she's a real sweet girl, we've even hung out a couple of times, done some shopping…I mean, yeah, she's gorgeous and everyone likes her and I'm sure lots of hot guys ask her out every day but-"

Elijah scowled at her, "What are you trying to do exactly?"

"I'm trying to cheer you up! Swear!" Susan whined, looking properly chagrined at how badly her words were coming out, at last she let out a fed-up little breath, "Look, you don't have to ask her out but my advice is that you do. I mean otherwise _I'll_ do it."

"And upset your girlfriend? I don't think so - she'd kick your ass!"

Susan laughed and ruffled his hair again, "True, true. So you going to come by our place later?"

"Sure, I have to go to work, don't I?"

Susan and her girlfriend lived above Persephone Café, a small business Susan's Dad owned. They both ran it and Elijah had gotten a job there upon moving to the City for school. He had immediately hit it off with them. Which was good, considering he was characteristically shy and it was hard for him to make friends with anyone.

Still, his words made her roll her eyes, "Yeah but I meant it more along the lines of our liking you and wanting to hang out. We can work on our paper together and maybe watch some DVDs. Got the first complete season of 'Starsky and Hutch'…you know you want to see it."

Elijah laughed, "Okay, you got me. I'm supposed to drop by Alex's for a bit and then I'll be there."

"Alex?"

"You know, Alex, he's Michelle's brother. My only other friend past you and-"

"Oh yeah, yeah I remember him now," Susan muttered then ruffled his hair again, "Well I'll see you later then."

She walked off confidently and Elijah shook his head, still chuckling as he followed suit.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.

Author's Notes:

More warnings…

WARNING: OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE (referring to labeling of certain races/ethnicity's/ and sexual preference)

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Chapter 2

Carter Willis and his cronies chuckled and hooted as they drove his new shiny pick-up down Gill Street. One of them, a burly black boy, held tightly to an aluminum bat. As they sped closer to a mail box he drew his arm back and swung. The box exploded off it's wooden post and went flying, sprawling it's contents out into the dark night sky.

The group crowed in amusement and the boy raised his arms in triumph. Elaine gave him a big hug and Alanis kissed his cheek. He handed the bat to another boy, this time a strapping, crew-cut white kid who took his own swing at the next mailbox, causing the same havoc.

Carter drove the truck and seated next to him was a doe-eyed Lissa. She curled a finger around her long blonde tresses, licking her lips to try and tantalize him. But Carter's eyes were on the road and he looked very thoughtful. He'd chuckle now and then as his friends destroyed another box but he seemed preoccupied.

Lissa cleared her throat meekly. Carter didn't notice. She tried again. Still nothing. At last she asked, "So what's with you tonight?"

"Whadda ya mean?"

"I mean Robbie and Dave are back there destroying mailboxes left and right and you just seem like you're…somewhere else."

"There a crime against thinking?"

"No!" Lissa gasped, not wanting to make him angry, "I - I just wondered…"

He sighed, "It's nothing, all right?"

Just then Dave Jackson, the one who'd first swung the bat, tapped at the back windshield, Carter slowed the car and Lissa opened the little back window so his voice could filter through, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Carter you sure you don't want to switch? I mean I could drive for a while and you could take a couple hits."

Carter shook his head, "And let you drive my car? My baby? No, I don't think so buddy."

"Come on, man," Robbie Klein cut in, hunching up near the window, hand running over his closely cropped hair, "You know you want to get a piece. I mean this is one of the few streets in this suburb we haven't hit. Took over an hour to drive out here. I mean you must want to hit one before we go back to the city."

"I said no and I meant it! Now go on, keep having fun. Work up a thirst 'cause when we get to campus I've got only two words for you."

Before he could even say it the three joined in a simultaneous shout, "Beer bong!"

The foursome in the bed of the truck laughed and Carter increased the truck's speed again, making sure to curve extra close to a new row of mailboxes to the right side of the car. Once more the boys were whacking away at the defenseless boxes with the cheers of the girls not far behind.

Lissa was still consumed with looking at Carter though. He was so handsome. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, great build. Probably the best looking boy currently attending Columbia. He had gotten in thanks to his football scholarship and all signs looked good for him to make the big leagues. Few players could actually say that with any confidence but Carter…the NFL was just drooling for him.

Every girl on campus wanted him but he had yet to chose a steady girl. Sure, he'd bedded a lot but there was no one steady. Lissa wanted so badly to be that steady. So she continued with the doe eyes and leaned closer to Carter, trying her best to make the collar of her shirt dip lower.

It was all ready pretty low, almost showing the top of her lacy pink bar but she needed for him to get an eye full of her cleavage, knew that she had to catch his eye somehow and move from there.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lissa trying to be sneaky as she adjusted her top again. He avoided rolling his eyes but just bearly. She was throwing herself at him. It was disgusting. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't just fuck her and get it over with.

After all, she might not be a bad lay but he had all ready pegged her type. Pegged most of the girls on campus actually. It was ironic how Robbie had referred to hitting one of the mailboxes as 'taking a piece'. Because in some ways that's how he felt.

He was a mailbox and every girl he met had a baseball bat and wanted a piece of him. Wanted him because of his bright future and the money therein. Lissa was most definitely one of those.

"You know…we never finished our little talk." She purred, a finger running up and down his corded arm playfully, "What are you thinking about, Carter? Hmm? We can talk and if it's something you need help with I'd be more than happy to-"

Carter's thin patience snapped, "Yeah, I just bet you would. Look, Lissa, just sit back, keep your hands to yourself, and keep quiet, all right."

Lissa let out a little wounded kitten noise and drew back sharply, folding her arms and looking dejectedly out the passenger side window. The sound of another mailbox being destroyed filtered through the air as well as another round of cheers.

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When they returned to campus Lissa broke off from the others. Elaine and Alanis were both amazed she wanted to get away, especially Alanis who was known for always speaking before thinking, "Are you crazy?! The guys are gonna go back to the dorm, get drunk and want to have sex! I mean, this is the perfect chance for you to finally move in on Carter. I thought that's what you wanted."

"Carter Willis is - is…oh! I just want to deal with him anymore tonight!" she blustered and turned on her heels, making sure she flounced off in a dramatic fashion. She knew her friends would return to the dorm and she would not deny them that. She wanted them to be there in fact, wanted them to get with the respective boys they had been working on.

But she knew her exit would guarantee their attention tomorrow. They'd bitch along with her and say all the coddling words she wanted to hear. She entered the dorm room she shared with Giselle. The dark haired girl appeared to be out and Lissa was slightly surprised by that.

True, Giselle was just as popular as Lissa but she spent most evenings in. Many a time Lissa had tried to coerce the other girl into joining her and the others but she was rebuffed again and again. Giselle was deeply fixed on her studies. Where could she have gone?

Lissa shook her head and pushed the thought off. It was good that Giselle had finally gone out - she hoped she was having fun. Lissa knew that everyone was having fun right now but her! It was so unfair!

With a little whimper and pout she collapsed on her bed. It was only ten o'clock, normally she was out until past midnight. This was terrible! What was she going to do with all this free time? A manicure? A pedicure? A face mask?

Lissa considered these then vaguely remembered the essay. Ugh, like she wanted to think about that icky film! Besides, she normally looked off Giselle's work for 'inspiration'. Lissa tossed in her bed a few more times then went for a shower. Once she was clean and in her nightgown and robe she settled in front of the TV, a bottle of hot pink nail polish and some cotton balls in hand.

She clicked on the TV and watched a 'Friends' re-run, poking cotton balls between her toes. Once that was done she began painting her toenails, eyes on the screen now and then.

'Friends' ended and a movie started. She noted with some glee that Ben Affleck was on screen. But in this flick he was interested in some blonde who, in Lissa's opinion, was a big no-no. Her breasts were too small and pointy, her face pursed up like she'd been sucking on a lemon for too long. And that voice! So squeaky!

The plot eventually settled in, revealing the girl was a lesbian. Lissa gawked in disgust and flipped the channel. Disgusting! She settled for the newest teen drama and sighed in sympathy as characters went through their normal problems. Her life was just like this - beautiful but oh so troubled. Unfair yet again.

She found her thoughts drifting to Carter. What could he have been thinking about? Was it about school? Football? Or worse, was it about his casual flirting with Susan in class that day.

Ew! Yuck! Lissa's mind flashed back to the Ben Affleck/lesbian flick. Speaking of lesbians! Didn't he know Susan was one of the biggest dykes on campus!? No, probably not. Actually no one really knew at all. But Lissa knew.

She made it her business to know. One day she had been at Persephone, getting her mocha latte and she'd seen Susan and some other girl in the back - gag! - kissing! Lissa could have died! She was bursting at the seams to pick up her cell phone and call all her friends with this new bit of gossip but instead she had held back.

Her instincts told her that somehow this little piece of information could be used to her advantage someday. Remembering this now, she knew her instincts were right. Maybe Carter was thinking about how Susan rebuffed his advances. Maybe Carter was interested in Susan. Well he was in for a shock! Wait until Lissa revealed to him and everyone else that Susan was nothing more than a carpet-muncher!

Or maybe she'd even black-mail the other girl with the information, tell her to back off from Carter or better yet, to try and get Carter interested in her...

Lissa thought over this with an evil, gleeful smile, her toes swinging from side to side as the paint air-dried. Idly she reached for her purse, wondering if any of her girlfriends had called. She withdrew her cell and beamed when she saw she had one message. Now which one of the girls would call her?

Elaine or Alanis?

Then a frown formed. Hey, they were supposed to jam her voice box weren't they? Or at least text messages! Hell, they should have been fighting over it. But then they were probably distracted with their guys. Sighing she clicked a button to retrieve the message, figuring maybe it was both of them together. After all, Elaine could have started the message on her phone then handed it to Alanis to finish up.

The computer voice clicked on, "You have one new message. Message received at two forty three p.m.!"

Two-fourty? That was impossible! She was in class then! So this wasn't Elaine or Alanis - hell, this had nothing to do with what had happened this evening. Who would have called while she was in school? Maybe her mother?

She waited for a voice and at first heard nothing, then a childish voice began singing, _"One, two Freddy's coming for you…three, four better lock your door…"_

For some reason Lissa gasped, her heart stopping cold. The voice…a little girl. She shook her head and sat up in her seat, clicking a few more buttons. For some reason she couldn't get the phone to list the number where the call had originated from.

She frowned, deeply troubled. Then she relaxed, scowling. It had to be a prank. Some stupid trick. One of her other friends must have called and left it, knowing she'd be in class and that she'd have set her phone on vibrate. And she was notorious for forgetting to check her messages.

Well they would be pleased in having creeped her out. It was too late at night to play such a dirty trick. But the little girl? Did one of her friends have a kid sister or a niece they could have used? Or maybe it was a tech geek using his computer - but then how did they get her number?

Lissa shook her head for the hundredth time and tossed her phone aside, a disgruntled noise leaving her. It was just some dumb prank. Nothing to get worked up over. Even if the voice and what it said sent chills down her spine for some inexplicable reason.

Freddy? Who was that even?

Her eyes tossed about and she saw the collage of cute famous actors she posted up in her side of the dorm room. There was Ben Affleck, Brad Pitt, and Freddie Prinze Jr. She giggled and flopped back on her bed, kissing the picture of Freddie quickly, "So you're coming for me, hmm?"

She laughed at the idea and rolled her eyes, "Freddie's coming for me, whatever."

She clicked off a few lights and crawled back into bed under the covers. Her thoughts trailed over Carter a bit more, as well as Susan, but in the darkness of the dorm they couldn't help but return to the eerie, weird phone call.

What class had she been in at two forty three? Smith's. Of course! That was her last class of the day. Thinking of that class made her think of the video again. She rolled over, trying to blot out thoughts of the fire, the water, the dying horse, melting wax, and the man in the hat.

She tried to think of something nicer.

__

Carter.

Ben Affleck.

Freddie Prinze.

Freddy.

Freddy.

Freddy.

Freddy…

Lissa fell deep into sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.

Author's Notes:

More warnings…

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE

WARNING: SENSUALITY

------------------------------

Chapter 3

It had started in a beautiful forest. It was like something out of a fairy tale - tall tress, rising as high as sky scrappers, some with thick trunks and others willow thin, their branches packed with leaves, some of which floated down lazily to the ground. The sun filtered down through the canopy above and birds chirped musically.

Then the air had grown a chill and in a flash it was night, the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. This would have been beautiful too but suddenly the forest seemed more dense and foreboding and the cold was bone biting strong. Lissa trudged through the drift, arms crossed, shivering and then she'd heard a snapping sound behind her.

She made the mistake of turning to hear the source of the sound. She had been running ever since. It was hard to move through the powdery terrain but she had to keep going. She was too hysterical to scream anymore. It felt as if she had been running forever. She had to escape though. Had to get away.

Even though her eyes were blurred with tears, even though her skin was frozen, even though her lungs felt as if they'd explode she knew she could never stop running. Because if she did he would catch her. The man from the video, the one in the hat, with the razor fingers.

She knew now, innately, that this was Freddy.

And he had indeed come for her.

She stumbled in her footing now and then but still she moved with determined quickness. If she kept moving she would get away. She would find safety. She had to. The forest that had once been so lovely was now unforgiving, tree limbs whipping out at her flesh to tear at her clothes, to draw blood. Branches caught in her hair, trying to grab hold but she merely tugged out of their grasp, letting them take chunks of blonde hair.

Then she reached a true obstacle, a dilapidated but still formidable rusty barbwire fence. The strands of twisted metal were grouped close together, barbs not even an inch apart. The fence was too high to leap over but she saw one section where the wires parted just enough. She'd have to lift one strand up and climb through. It would be a tight squeeze but…

Gasping she grasped the strand that needed to be lifted higher. She cried out as the barbs dug deep into the flesh of her palms but she continued her work, wrenching it upwards. She put one leg through and had her body halfway out when suddenly she was tugged viciously backward by the material of her sweater.

She was sucked back into the darkness and several leafy branches rustled. A sharp scream filling the air. Several black birds burst from the top of the canopy into the night sky. There was another scream and then a loud, masculine grunt of pain and once more Lissa appeared at the fence.

Her nose was running and blood stained her clothes, but this did not stop her as she once again worked at the fence, squeezing her way through. Her back was bleeding liberally, a slash visible across her spine but it wasn't deep enough to kill her and certainly not deep enough to make her stop running.

The cold air bit at her wound, making it sting but she ignored it, sobbing as she saw a church ahead as well as a spotlight. Light! If she could only get in the light she felt she'd be safe, then through the light and into the church - she'd be saved! She just had to keep moving…

Her feet sunk deep into the frozen blanket of snow, puncturing deep as she made her way. She could hear a thrashing behind her, knew Freddy was recovering from her surprise attack. She had just bearly managed to hit him and wiggle out of his grasp and now he had regrouped. He was coming after her. She could hear his ragged breathing; she had to keep moving, had to make it…

Just as she reached the spotlight a teenage girl stepped out of thin air from behind its wooded post. Long dark hair covered her face and she wore a long, tattered white dress, the skin of her bare arms a ghastly shade, veins coursing visibly beneath. The girl's hair flew back and Lissa looked into her face.

A high pitched squeal of terror escaped her throat and dissolved into gurgling as her face began to melt, her whole body convulsing as her pupils liquefied into the white of her eyes and her skin began to disintegrate into a moldy green.

She collapsed at the girl's feet and the long dark hair fell back into place like a veil, covering what Lissa had just seen. The dark head bowed, looking at Lissa prone, dead form then rose to see Freddy charging through the snow up to her. The hair fell away again to show a fresh faced, pale teenager. Samara.

One corner of her mouth had lifted slightly, a glittering visible deep in her dark eyes as Freddy huffed and puffed his way to her. He saw Lissa dead at her feet and snarled, ungloved hand reaching out to take a hearty handful of the hair at the base of her scalp, "That one was mine!"

His mouth latched onto her jugular, biting and sucking hungrily, tongue wetting the flesh of her throat. Samara merely let out a sound of delighted pain, her hands clutching to his shoulders then moving back to grab hold of his sweater. She tugged hard; drawing his mouth away from her just so she could latched her lips over his.

They kissed one another ravenously. It appeared as if they were biting one another more than kissing, each fighting for control but eventually the heated lust cooled, fading away, as did the scenery around them. The forest, the snow, the church, even Lissa's body disappeared, a white blankness taking its place as the two kissed.

Samara drew away slightly, whispering into Freddy's mouth, "Let me."

She sank down and out of his grip, dissolving into nothingness at his feet. He caught his breath, blinking as the dreamscape changed and altered yet again. The ground beneath his feet was dark and brittle, cracked but a light shown up from beneath, through the cracks. Lava, perhaps?

A thunderous roar filled the sky as several strange creations jutted up from the ground, bizarre curls and twists, spirals, and these too were cracked but had light pouring out. It was like something Tim Burton or Henry Selick would have designed.

The sky above was filled with thick, cumulous clouds but they were see-through, showing a star filled sky and a white, pregnant full moon. Freddy's head tossed from side to side, grin in place. Not too bad. A bit girly for his tastes but considering he was the one who had taught Samara how to manipulate the dreamscape and she had invented something like this thanks only to what he himself had taught her, he could say it wasn't too bad.

After all, she had only learned quickly because he was such a good teacher.

And she certainly didn't lack style.

No where the hell was she?

"Samara!" He bellowed, his voice echoing. There was no answer.

He scowled, slightly pissed, "Samara! Where the fuck are you!"

Another echo and then he heard some strange noise, something akin to music as a voice asked in a dreamy, breathless tone, "Here I am."

The noise burst, falling into a thrumming beat as Samara appeared from behind one of her twisted, curled land sculptures. She was as frightening as she was beautiful. Her power pulsed and flowed around her in a variety of colors - red, orange, yellow, white...and she was still fresh faced, eyes completely dark and black but glittering again.

Freddy couldn't help but laugh. She was trying yet again to entice him. Ever since their first kiss, she'd been hungry for more. She was forevermore a student, always eager to learn. While losing Becca's living body had reverted her to her more emotionless self, some feelings remained.

And one of those feelings was desire. She wanted more than kisses from Krueger and he knew it. Hell, the first time he'd kissed her he'd almost taken her right there, his dick begging for a good, long hard fuck. But he'd backed off.

While it would have been good to take Samara, especially when she offered herself so willingly, he had restrained himself. Ever since meeting Samara he'd restrained himself at many things and while this experience was wholly new and uncharacteristic of him (as well as something he did not enjoy in the least) he continued to do so because if he had learned anything over his undead existence it was that patience paid off in the end.

Sure, he could take her when she offered herself. Hell, he could take her when she _didn't_ offer herself, devil knew he loved when they struggled but no, he wanted to prolong things. And why? Because this was fun as fuck for him!

Since dying and becoming a dream demon, nothing had entertained him and filled his undead life and attention as much as dreams and killing his children, racking up his body count. Samara was the first thing that had come along that was different. And variety was still the spice, even when you were dead. Now when he wasn't killing, he had someone to occupy his time. To mess with.

And oh how he would! How he had been! He teased and tantalized better than she could ever hope. For while her attempts to entice him were indeed temping he was still the more experienced of the two in these affairs. Yes, she knew the mechanics of things but she had never _done_ anything.

He had and he knew she was curious. Hungry. And he just loved that too much. Finally he had something over her. Though he did so carefully, just in the right proportion. In that first kiss, in sealing that union, they had agreed in most ways to be equals.

While they playfully fought for control neither asserted complete dominance over the other because it was pointless to try and do so. Things were at an even stalemate control wise and would remain so, of that he had no doubt. But what little thing he did have to dangle above her head he would.

And currently that was his knowledge of sex.

She floated over to him in all her horrifying glory and he licked his lips, chuckling, "Looking good."

She had all ready tried numerous forms to attract him. Her little girl form alive. Her little girl form dead and rotten. Her teenage form alive. Her teenage form dead and rotten. This form was entirely new, similar to how she had looked when she had killed him in the real world but even more elaborate - almost entirely supernatural in appearance.

She eased toward him, posture entirely suggestive and he merely shook his head, "That last one was mine."

"I'll give you the next one." She offered sweetly.

"Huh, I just bet you will. The soul?" He opened his gloved hand and Samara drew away. It was obvious she was shelving a sigh as her hair fell back into place to cover her face. Her supernatural spirit form disappeared as she reverted back to her normal teenage self, aware that he was once again not going to give her what she wanted.

She reached into her pocket and drew out a glowing orb, Lissa's soul, it squeaked and squawked as Freddy drew near it and sucked in a deep breath, chest puffing out as the orb floated up and landed over where his heart would have been had he one. The soul melted against him, glowing for a moment before sinking deep inside him.

Freddy's eyes closed and he looked quite blissful, like a junkie who had just received a hit. It was still amusing to Samara. Watching him absorb a soul. Sometimes he did so visibly and other times it was just taken in invisibly. But each time his light eyes seemed to spark just so.

Amusing, to think his eyes could ever spark.

But then, they certainly took on a light when he killed.

Freddy sighed, eyes narrowed as he was back to business, "Things're going pretty good, kid," his gloved hand ruffled the top of her hair roughly, razors once again taking their toll of dark strands, "'Freddy Takes Manhattan'. Who would have thought that would have took, huh?"

As was her way, Samara did not answer and just as Freddy was about to make another trademark, smart-ass remark he froze. While outwardly Samara showed no reaction she was surprised. She eased closer to him. He was solid. Stiff. It was as if he had been petrified.

Samara looked around and saw that the dreamscape she had created was gone. Her hair hid the action, but she did blink. How could her scape have disappeared so quickly? How could it have done so without her knowledge? Without her or Freddy changing it? Without her _feeling_ it?

She looked at Freddy again but he was still. Bubbles floated through the air and Samara noted that the ground beneath her feet had changed into glossy, white marble. Columns of stone rose up out of the ground and above her head was an immaculate painted ceiling. A massive golden chandelier hung above and now rose petals joined the bubbles in the air, filtering about, floating down.

Samara's own dress had changed, becoming a ballgown, her hair drawn back and atop of head. She looked from side to side, face impassive when suddenly she found herself swept into someone's arms, dancing lazily. She looked at her partner.

It was a man. Tall, blonde, and elegant, but in essence everything about him was almost androgynous in nature, his cheekbones high and well defined, his lips glossy and his eyes…his eyes were impossible to describe, beautiful and cold, deep…

And something about him was so familiar, like she had met him before, long, long ago…

Classical strings of music filled her ears and still they moved about the dance floor, their gait wide spread. She could see Freddy out of the corner of her eye now and then. He had still not moved an inch and then the man before her spoke, grabbing her attention, "Hello Samara."

His voice was not of this earth and it went through her being like lightning rod being struck. She looked at him and he graced her with a smile, "Do you know who I am?"

She said nothing, face still blank.

"Were you even going to ask?"

Still nothing.

He looked wickedly pleased by her 'response', "Of course not. That's the way we made you. You don't remember me, but I came to you when you were alive and very, very young. Perhaps a reminder…"

His pale hand rose and cool fingertips ran along the side of her face. Samara's inner eye exploded with the visions she had been seeing for as long as she could remember. Horrible images flooded before her - things that most human beings could not withstand - violence, death, and pure evil.

As quickly as they came they left, his hand leaving her flesh to brush along her shoulder, pick at the material of her dress thoughtfully, "You see, I am the one who gave them to you. Or more accurately, I represent those who gave them to you. I didn't really come into play until much later, after I had healed, but that is another story."

Samara realized vaguely they had stopped dancing and her head was swimming from what he had shown her. She had had the visions continually and for so long that she now hardly noticed them - they were as regular to her as breathing. She had only been dizzy the first time they had appeared, when they had come to her…

"You're not lying." She whispered.

"No. I am not. But then you knew that. Do you want to know my name?"

Samara looked at him, then to Freddy. The man laughed, "Oh yes, him. Are you actually worried, Samara?"

She was once again silent but he didn't seem to notice or care, "He is fine, I assure you. Krueger is quite egotistical. He thinks he has complete control of this dreamscape, that no one has any power over him and in most ways this is true…very true. In fact it is straining for me to hold him as I am now but you see, once _I_ had the control, the power…the power…"

The man shook his head again, "But that is also another story. I have been called many things Samara, held many names and titles but lately I have settled upon Nicodemus. Do you know the definition of Nicodemus?"

"Conqueror of the People." The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She didn't even know where they came from.

"Yes. Samara, I shall leave you to Mr. Krueger, as I know that is what you wish, but beware, there is more to him than meets the eye. And more to you."

Samara's face did not change but she was now full of questions. As if sensing it, Nicodemus pressed a finger to her lips, "Shh. Quiet. I'll see you. Promise."

With that he vanished as did the ballroom. Everything was as it was before he came, Freddy remarking dryly, "But then who would have thought…"

He stopped, frowning. He shifted from foot to foot and shot a glare at Samara, "What happened?"

Her mouth dropped open slightly but she didn't say anything. Freddy's eyes narrowed, "I felt something. On the dreamscape…did you."

It was more a statement than a question and Samara could tell by the deadly edge in his voice that this was one of those time she should most definitely answer. She shook her head. Freddy scowled again but seemed slightly elevated by her lie.

Like Nicodemus had said, Freddy was proud in the knowledge that he alone controlled the dreamscape and every facet of it. If Samara felt nothing and he did, well then that just meant he was more powerful than her at something.

And considering she had an array of powers in her arsenal, it was good for him to have that. He noticed that Lissa's blood still decorated his blades and he chuckled, "So, who's next?"


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.

Author's Notes:

Someone, Danielle I think, asked how old Samara was in this story. Samara's age fluctuates, as she completely absorbed Becca's body in _Nightmare Ring_. In other words, she can still take on that form - look like Becca, be her age and stuff. So sometimes Samara is a little girl and other times she's college aged - neat, huh?!

More warnings…

WARNING: LANGUAGE

------------------------------

****

Chapter 4

Will Rollins looked at the beige ceiling of the cheap motel and wondered yet again how his life had reached this point. He couldn't even remember when his life had had a semblance of normality to it. But then it never really had, had it?

He'd been born to god only knew who and shipped off into foster home after foster home. Eventually he'd found himself in Springwood and it was there he found the first thing even remotely resembling normality.

Lori Campbell.

In her big doe eyes and short blonde curls he had had the first stirrings of love. Then, as if God was spiting him, it had ended with him 'seeing' Lori's father kill her mother, giving him a one way ticket to Westin Hills Psychiatric Hospital.

Through those four years of torture he'd at least been blessed with his first, real best friend in Mark Davis. When it looked as if Lori was in danger, Mark helped him escape and paid for it with his life. That's when boogieman had become real in the form of the psychotic dream demon Freddy Krueger and the massive zombie king, Jason Vorhees.

But that had, in a way, held its own happy ending. Lots of lives were lost, true but Will had finally found freedom from Westin and be reunited with Lori. He started working for Lori's Dad and things yet again became as normal for him as they could be.

Only to be torn again as Lori gave into an addiction of pills and his relationship with her ended, Krueger returned and what's more he had an accomplice in tow.

Samara.

She masqueraded in the body of a girl she possessed by the name of Becca Kotler and through that body, under the nickname of 'Sam', Will had found love again. He wanted to scoff at the thought. Had he been in love with Sam…Samara? He'd bearly known her and when she had revealed her true self he knew what little he had learned had been lies.

But the way she'd looked at him, the way they were when they'd been alone together…

In the end Samara had apparently died, but he knew that wasn't true, she was still alive but now she was yet again with Krueger on the dreamscape, probably happy partners in crime once more. Creating nightmares, taking lives.

The whole experience had left him drained and in the company of Krueger's previous victims. He sat up slightly; weight rested on his forearms as he looked over at Maggie Burroughs and Jacob Johnson.

Maggie was actually Katherine Krueger; Freddy's long lost daughter. Only days ago she had lost her best friend, Doc, to her father's clutches and it wasn't doing well for her nerves. The only thing she had to hang on to was the arrival of her fiancé, Michael Reeves, who had called just an hour ago to inform them he'd finally reached Springwood and was coming as quickly as possible. Maggie had been overjoyed to hear that but she was still all about business, her laptop open as she scanned page after page for information on Rebecca Kotler.

Jacob was doing his part as well. His mother had faced Freddy for the third, and last time, only to lose. Jacob was not dealing with his mother's passing well. He hadn't slept or ate in days and he kept pouring over Doc's old books, looking for ways to stop Krueger. Each tomb had a crazier title than the next and each read like complex medical manuals but still he searched through each ancient volume, looking for some kind of answer.

Angela Walsh, another member of this insane little group, was off at the campus, using her office to try and get answers on Kotler as well. Both she and Maggie had decided that it was important to look into Kotler and hopefully from there get some answers about Samara.

"Since she's helping Krueger she could prove to be a useful tool in his downfall. After all, she fought him to a stand still. She's obviously a very powerful supernatural figure. Now all we need to do is learn how to use her to our advantage." Angela had said, eyes gleaming madly and Maggie had looked just as hell bent.

Jacob too.

In fact they were all overly obsessed with their campaign to destroy Krueger and Samara once and for all. Obsessed to the point of madness. This left Will the odd man out. He wanted to stop them, true, hell - he'd lost friends to Krueger's recent escapade - even Lori - but his heart just wasn't in it. He wasn't as dedicated.

Which led him to think of Samara again. Of Sam. He kept trying to tell himself she never was 'Sam' but still the feelings lingered and refused to die. He'd seen something in her. She'd been so familiar…

At first he'd written it off as his recognizing her for her true form, for while in Becca's body she'd been a teenager, her true form was that of a little girl. But both had had similarities - dark hair, pale skin and those eyes…it was as if Becca's body had been Samara's little girl form grown up.

But deep inside he knew there was more to it than that. She was familiar to him for some other reason but he didn't know why. It felt like it was on the tip of his tongue yet out of reach. Something buried. Something repressed. But how was that even possible?

Will sat up fully and sighed when suddenly the door to the motel room burst open to display Angela standing there. When Will had first met Angela he'd been immediately attracted to her and he'd be lying if he said he still wasn't.

Even with the revelation that she was his college guidance counselor and a few years his senior, he still found her to be very beautiful, her storm bluegreen eyes expansive and her chestnut brown hair always piled so gracefully atop her head. He wondered vaguely what it would look like down and about her shoulders.

As always she wore something fashionable, this time a black leather coat covering a styled blouse and long dark slacks. Unlike everyone else in the room she wore a dazzlingly smile, a folder under her arm, she dropped the folder before Maggie's busy typing fingers, "As they said in old mystery movies, I've cracked the case."

Maggie looked from the folder and then to Angela, dark eyes narrowed skeptically, "What?"

Jacob sat up noticeably too, and while his eyes were still bloodshot he looked more awake than he had in days. Will just watched impassively as Angela giggled, hands waving excitedly, "Well what are you waiting for, Maggie?! Open the folder! See what I found!"

Maggie opened the folder and scanned over a few pages, frown fixed firmly in place, "Angela, this is just the information Doctor Harris gave you about Becca, we all ready looked through this, honey, it's nothing new. He wrote about the kinds of drugs prescribed for her treatment, psychosis of her mental illness but nothing helpful to-"

"Au contraire, my friend, we looked through some of this information yes, but we overlooked something, something very important. Go to the very back and you will see a list of visitors," Maggie did so as she spoke, "Becca's grandparents are listed and guess what? They live here in Springwood. Or rather they did. If you keep going you will see their autopsy report, they were found dead in their home a few days ago…"

Maggie came across some newspaper articles and perused them with a quick eye, "Okay, so…Samara killed them, I'm guessing?"

"Most likely, yes, but that's not what's note worthy, check out what I highlighted."

Maggie found the section and read it allowed, "'No pictures were allowed to be taken inside the destroyed domicile but it can be reported that both victims were found horribly disfigured. Their bodies resting in arm chairs before a broken television set', Angela, what the hell does this have to do with-"

"We kept seeing it over and over again in Becca's file but brushing it off - the television. Becca was scared to death of TV sets. According to Doctor Harris, the hospital Becca had originally been committed to wrote of Becca's unnatural fear of the box."

"I still don't follow."

Angela knelled down to Maggie's seated height and looked into her eyes, a smile still playing about her face, "During her first days in the New York City hospital, she was reported murmuring about how she couldn't be near a TV because 'she' would get her. That 'she' could be Samara."

"So…"

Angela groaned and rose, rolling her eyes, "Don't you get it, Maggie! Samara was after Becca all this time - ever since New York City. That means there could be answers in New York dealing with her. So naturally I got into checking that out - got Doctor Harris to be even more cooperative, send me the information he received from New York, took a lot of buttering up but - well, it's in the back of the folder there."

Maggie flipped some more, then read aloud off handedly, more to herself than the others, "Only one visitor her entire stay in the other institution. A Rachel Keller…notes here say it was a very short but interesting interview…"

"I looked into Keller, she's a reporter and look what I found," Angela reached into her pocket and drew out a folded sheet of paper, she quickly unraveled it to show a printed internet article, the headline blazing, 'Cursed Video Tape: Fact or Fiction?'

Maggie took the article from her and her eyes darted over it, seeing that Angela had highlighted a name, "'Samara Morgan?'"

Angela nodded, "The article is short and vague, apparently Ms. Keller didn't want to write too much. In fact, from what little I managed to dig up on her, she was actually a reporter for a big City paper but this particular article of choice did not end up in her normal ledger, but instead a sci-fi/mystery magazine. Probably because it's more fiction than fact but as we know-"

"It's most definitely fact. Samara could be Samara Morgan."

"Not just 'could', is. Read the whole article if you want, Maggie, everything connects. Unfortunately Ms. Keller must have doubted the whole ordeal herself as it's so short and tight-lipped, which leaves us with only one alternative"

Jacob finally spoke, voice nothing more than a withered croak, "Are you suggesting-"

"We're going to take a bite out of the Big Apple," Angela replied confidently, crossing her arms, "And pay Ms. Keller a visit."

Maggie stood up and ran a hand through her hair, "It certainly is a plan, more than we've had thus far. You did a great job, Angela."

The two women hugged and Will almost wanted to groan aloud in disgust. Only days ago these two had been at each other's throats and now they were best friends? But then situations like this did draw people close together. And he imagined he was just cynical because he needed rest.

Doc had uncovered a load of valuable information before he died, including the truth behind beings called 'Dream Angels'. Dream Angels inhabited humans and provide them dream powers. If the person learned of this, they could use them to protect themselves from Freddy when they fell asleep.

At first it'd been theorized that Doc, Alice, and Angela were all Angels and for the most part this had rung true - save that Doc's low mental stability had led to his death and apparently Alice was not an Angel but instead her son, Jacob was, having protected himself and his Mom unconsciously from Freddy for years.

With Jacob so strung out they couldn't trust his state of mind to protect them should they chose to sleep, Angela had been depended on as the sole Angel. And since she'd been running on some kind of mad fuel, she hadn't slept in days so neither had any of them. Not that Maggie or Jacob would have wanted to sleep as they too seemed empowered by whatever was driving Angela.

This once again singled Will out. He had nothing behind him but being worn out and exhausted. Too much blood had been spilt, there was too much pain. All he wanted was rest. He noticed that Jacob had stood up and was now hovering around Maggie and Angela, giving a weak grin.

Poor kid hadn't cracked any kind of happy facial expression in days. Not since the death of his mother. Will felt for him, he really did. Having never met his own real mother and father, never having parents who had loved him, he couldn't understand what Jacob was going through but he had something of an idea.

Maggie tousled Jacob's hair and kissed the top of his head and Will felt a smile take him. Maggie had become something of Jacob's surrogate mother and Angela his older sister, maybe he could consider himself Jacob's brother? It was so weird, their pseudo-family…

Suddenly a body flopped down on the stiff mattress next to him and a hand played with his sneaker, "Hey Mr. Tall, Dark, n' Handsomely Quiet, why aren't you up celebrating?"

Will looked into Angela's expansive eyes and swallowed, "Do you mean why am I not celebrating or why have I not been helping with the research?"

Her head cocked to one side, "Did I phrase the question that way?"

"Not aloud, no." He didn't know why he was being so bitter but Angela just shook her head, "Will, no one really expects you to be hands-on. Besides, there were only so many research jobs to do. Sure, it would have been nice if you wanted to help out but…Will you were upset over - over what happened."

Will sighed, "Jacob, is upset over what happened. He lost his Mom for Christ's sake and here I sit…"

"Hey, you lost people too, all right? A lot of your friends, your ex-girlfriend, your current girlfriend-"

"Current?"

"Sam, Will."

He scowled, "Sam…Samara, wasn't my-"

"Yes, Will, she was. You wanted her to be, in your mind you had her set as that. I mean you were on a date with her when - when all hell broke loose. It's understandable that you'd be hurt. You trusted her with something special."

"Oh? And what's that?"

Angela smirked and poked a finger into his chest, right above his heart and made a funny little noise in the back of her throat like she'd pushed a noisy button. Will couldn't help but chuckle, feeling even more tired than before, "I didn't mean to snap at you…and to not help…I've just felt so…"

"Will," she touched his shoulder and he looked at her hand resting there, then into those mesmerizing eyes again, "I told you. It's okay."

Her voice was soft and he swallowed again when there was a knock at the door. Maggie opened it and nearly screeched in joy as she threw herself into the arms of a tall, dark haired man.

"Whoa! Baby! You're killing me! Easy, easy…I'm happy to see you too!"

Much to Will's disappointment, Angela drew her hand away and giggled, "I'm guessing this is Michael."

Maggie began frantically kissing the man and Jacob stuck out his tongue in disgust, scratching the back of his head, "You want we should leave you two alone in the room for a while?"

Angela and Will both laughed now. This evening was full of surprises, first with the revelations and then with Jacob and Maggie showing more spirit and life than they had in days. Will even began to feel a bit more jovial.

Or maybe he had been starting to feel that way ever since Angela had touched him, included him…

Maggie's death grip on Michael loosened and she drew him inside, "Michael, let me introduce you to my friends. This here is Jacob Johnson and over there is Angela Walsh and Will Rollins. Everyone, this is Michael."

"Yeah, we kind of guessed that. You don't normally treat everyone who comes through the door that way," Will tossed in.

"I sure hope she doesn't," Michael laughed, "Those kinds of warm welcomes are reserved just for me."

He dived in and captured another kiss from Maggie then looked around the room, taking in all the disarrayed papers as well as the faces of the people in the room. They all looked worn out, beat up and tired. Even his beloved Maggie seemed a little worse for wear. He frowned. "So what's going on here exactly, you all researching for some big project."

The seriousness returned and Angela replied dryly, "You could say that."

Maggie cleared her throat and pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, "Michael, honey, we…we actually have to take a trip."

"Oh?"

"Yes, to - to New York."

"New York?! Jeez, you have me fly all the way here and now you want to go to-"

"It's very important, sweetheart."

"But why New York?"

"We have some…business there. It - it has to do with why I flew out in the first place."

"Oh yeah? Well where's Doc? Is he here? 'Cause I have some questions for him about," Michael's voice dropped off as Maggie's eyes began to water. He frowned, concerned, "Baby? What's wrong…why are you…"

"Oh Michael…"

"Is Doc…?"

Maggie just shook her head and one tear escaped. Michael shook his head, "I don't understand…what's going on and why are you all…I mean why New York? I was reading the paper on the flight over and watched the news and there's some bad stuff going on over there right now that-"

Maggie's head snapped up and all tears seemed to vanish, fear taking its place, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Michael now scratched the back of his head and reached into one of his bags, drawing out a folded newspaper, "I mean this. You haven't seen it on the news? Or in the paper? It's real big right now-"

Maggie took the paper from him and read the blazing headline aloud, "'Mysterious Deaths in New York.'"

Angela gasped, "Do you think-"

"Obviously they went on a trip too," Jacob muttered, "Location change, that's why we haven't heard about any more deaths around here. Why there hasn't been…shit. Shit!"

Jacob threw up his hands and continued cursing a blue streak. Angela got off the bed and patted Jacob's shoulders but he brushed her off. Will stood up too and dipped his hands into his pockets, saying resignedly, "That clenches it. We've got to go to New York. If they're there, we have to stop them."

"If 'who's' there? And why do you have to stop them and - and Jesus, Maggie, I've been patient up to this point but I'm at my wits end, I chase you across the world only to find you need to leave to go half way across the continent, Doc isn't here and you won't tell me where he is and I get the feeling something bad happened."

Maggie let out a dry scoff, hysterical at the words, "Yeah, yeah, I'd say something bad happened, Michael. And its still happening and it - it won't end unless we stop it."

"Maggie-" Michael was about to speak again with Angela interrupted, "Listen, you two need to talk alone. Maggie will fill you in and - and I'll take Jacob and Will out to get a bite to eat. We'll be back in," she looked at her watch, "Five hours?"

"Sounds good." Maggie whispered, head bent.

Angela ushered the other two boys out the door and shut it behind her. Leaving Michael and Maggie inside. Michael frowned, hands on his hips, "Maggie, what's going on?"

Maggie sighed, trying to think of where to begin. She rung her hands, eyes watery again as she sat on the edge of the bed and gave a shaky laugh, "Oh nothing, nothing's going on except a little…family dispute."

"What do you mean?"

She locked eyes with him and let out a hushed breath, "Oh Michael, he's back. He's back and he's killing again."

Michaels' eyes widened, "What? W-who? Who's killing again?"

"My father, Michael, my father."


End file.
